


Epilogue

by muse_in_absentia



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - No War, M/M, Non-Linear Narrative
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-17
Updated: 2017-11-17
Packaged: 2019-01-10 06:46:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12293550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/muse_in_absentia/pseuds/muse_in_absentia
Summary: R/S Games 2017 - Day 8 - Team RemusAfter a lot of miscommunication and six years apart, maybe Remus and Sirius can finally rewrite their ending.





	Epilogue

**Author's Note:**

> **Team:** Remus  
>  **Title:** Epilogue  
>  **Rating:** NC-17  
>  **Warnings:** None, if you heed the rating.  
>  **Genres:** No War AU  
>  **Word Count:** 16,000  
>  **Summary:** After a lot of miscommunication and six years apart and maybe Remus and Sirius can finally rewrite their ending.  
>  **Notes:** The biggest thank you ever to M and R for the amazing beta work. Also, a rather large thank you to the team chat en mass for all the plot bouncing, detail picking, and general cheerleading. You are all amazing!!!  
>  **Prompt:** #40 - "If you want a happy ending, that depends, of course, on where you stop your story." -  
>  Orson Welles

**MAY 30, 1988**

There was an owl sitting on his battered and cracked kitchen table when Remus stumbled out of his bedroom still half asleep.  He blinked at it once, twice, then turned around and promptly went back into the bedroom.  At twenty-eight he still forgot the glasses he had started to need a few months earlier, and he wasn't quite sure he was seeing what he thought he was seeing.  Only two nights prior he had been convinced that the rotting head of lettuce that he had forgotten to clean out of his garden was in fact a Crup.   

Settling the cheap plastic frames on his nose he leaned on the doorway between the two rooms and frowned at the dusty brown-grey ruffling feathers.  Definitely an owl.  And not even an owl he recognized.  Of course, it had been nearly two years since he had received an owl from anyone, so he was less surprised by that and more curious as to how the bird had gotten inside his cottage.

He went to rub the crust from his eyes and instead left a rather clear print from his index finger in the middle of his left glasses lens.  Sighing and resisting the urge to throw his glasses against the wall, he flicked a quick polishing charm at them, which smeared the print, but at least left him able to see through it.  He decided it was good enough for early morning he carefully reached underneath the frames and swiped at his eyes.

"Sodding things," he muttered.  "All the magic in the world and you still need glasses when old age and lycanthropy start your eyes deteriorating."   

The owl did not look impressed, hooting softly and shaking its leg at him in a gentle reminder that it was there for a reason.

"I'm working on it," he sighed, summoning a half finished mug of cold coffee from across the room, and a package of stale owl treats he had left over from when he still had friends.  Draining the coffee dregs with a grimace and tossing a treat to the patiently waiting owl, Remus leveraged himself off the doorframe that was mostly supporting him and dropped himself heavily onto the one creaky chair at the table.

The drip drip drip of the tap made Remus' eye twitch, but every time he had tried to charm it to no longer leak it spit steam and scalding water at his face, so he let it be, doing his best to ignore the incessant plink of water onto metal.  It was always harder when he hadn't slept, the sound magnified until it reverberated inside his skull and made him want to go sleep outside on the cold ground rather than have to listen to it for another second.

He dropped his head onto his arms on the table with a groan.  The owl he was still ignoring nipped at the top of his ear.

"Whatever it is, I probably don't want it," Remus grumbled at the owl, who was now preening the already greying hair around his temples, not leaving like Remus half hoped it would.  "Fine, I'll  take your sodding letter."

Untying the small scroll from the owl's leg proved to be a bit difficult, as his fingers didn't want to cooperate with him before noon most days, and he didn't trust using a severing charm for fear of missing and hurting the owl.   

Finally free of its parchment the owl hooted twice more at him, helped itself to another owl treat, and flew away, leaving up through the mostly unused chimney.

"So _that's_ how you got in.  Clever bugger."   

Remus set aside the letter and went to brew himself some fresh coffee, only fighting with the ancient coffee pot for a few minutes while it hissed and spit grounds at him before he managed to wrangle it onto the counter where it started percolating almost immediately.

"Well, that went better than usual," Remus sighed, wiping soggy coffee grounds off ratty t-shirt he usually slept in before using a drying charm so he didn't drip on the floor.  While the coffee brewed Remus put some sugar in a mug and checked the refrigerator only to find he was out of milk.  He was also out of eggs, bread, rice and the leftover curry he thought was still there from earlier in the week.  There were a couple of potatoes in the back but when one of them blinked its eyes at him he gave those up as a lost cause, too.

He was just closing the door on the empty refrigerator when the coffee pot started shrieking, "Pour me out!  Pour me out!" and he had to rush over to pour his coffee before the thing started spitting it all over the walls as it was prone to doing if you didn’t empty it fast enough.  Some days he dreamed of just buying a muggle coffee pot that didn't spit and yell at him, but that was money he simply didn't have to spare when he could still manage to get a cup of coffee out of the one he had.

Coffee in hand, with extra sugar to make up for the lack of milk, Remus sat back down at the kitchen table and picked up his letter, eyeing it warily.  It was tied with red and gold ribbon but the edge was rough like it had been torn from a much longer parchment roll.  So it probably wasn't anything terribly official, which didn't do much to calm the sudden urge to pack up and move where no one could find him.  There hadn't been anyone in his life to owl him for a long time now.

He untied the scroll to find handwriting he hadn't forgotten, even years later.

_Moony,_

_Can I still call you that?  I know Prongs doesn't mind, but Sirius gets all quiet and withdrawn if anyone calls him Padfoot anymore.  I think it reminds him of you, but he won't ever say that, and no one wants to risk asking._

Remus stopped, put the letter down carefully on the table and took a long gulp of coffee, scalding his tongue.  His hands were shaking and it was a near thing that he didn't burn those, too; sloshing coffee around the mug, but just managing to not spill any. Setting his mug down before he dropped it, Remus eyed the innocuous looking scrap of sandy colored parchment warily, like it might leap up and bite him, howler or not.  He had become a hermit for a reason, and the intrusion left him feeling jittery and unsettled.  Best to find out what Peter wanted rather than worry that he might come knocking now that he knew where to knock.  It still took him a few minutes, however, before he could convince himself to gingerly pick the letter back up.

_I know it's been a while.  How have you been?  Last anyone heard you were working in that apothecary in Knighton, but no one could find you there, so I suspect that's no longer true._

Or at least, where to send another owl.  "It's a good thing owls can't talk," Remus muttered to himself, crinkling the edges of the parchment between sweaty fingers.  His little cottage at the southern end of Vouvant was probably still safe.  There was no way he wouldn't have heard about it if James or Sirius had made it to France looking for him.

_Harry is nearly eight now.  You probably barely remember him as anything more than a squalling baby, but James and Lily have made sure he knows you're still his uncle as much as Sirius and I are.  You're just the uncle that lives far away and doesn't come to visit.  You really ought to come visit._

Remus scowled, a tiny tendril of guilt snaking up his spine and settling in his chest.  It would have been nice to see Harry grow up.

_I don't know if you heard that Beth and I got divorced last year.  It was mostly friendly, although I'm grateful we never had kids, now.  I make do with spoiling Harry every chance I get.  He's a great kid._

_So, you may have noticed that there was a second parchment along with this letter._

Remus had almost missed the little card that had fallen out when he unrolled the scroll, ignoring it in favor of breaking his own heart reading updates about his once friends.  Picking it up, he frowned at it before returning to Peter's letter.

_It's an invitation to what James is calling the Hogwarts reunion of the century.  No one has the heart to tell him that it's the only Hogwarts reunion so there was no competition.  I'm a little shaky on how it happened.  Something about James and Sirius running into Kingsley with Marlene and Dorcas at the pub and making plans to meet to catch up and it spiraling from there.  Now it has turned into almost everyone we knew at Hogwarts, and quite a few people we didn't know.  Lily even managed to convince James to invite Severus.  They're civil these days, if you can believe that.  Sirius still thinks it's a trick._

"Of course he does," Remus snorted, shaking his head, hair flopping into his eyes where he ignored it, reminding himself that he probably ought to get it cut sometime soon, but knowing that he wouldn't.

_Please at least consider coming.  We've all missed you and would love to get to see you again.  You do have a while to decide.  Just let someone know if you're coming before mid-June, because Lily has an appointment to meet with the Hogwarts House Elves about food and she needs to know how many to expect.  I did mention that James asked Dumbledore for use of Hogwarts to hold this it got so large, right?_

_Also, feel free to bring any significant other you may have right now.  None of us were sure if you had one or not, but they would definitely be welcome.  We'd love to meet anyone you find important.  And yes, I have been authorized by James to speak for all of us on that.  We really do miss you.  Please decide you'll come._

_Even if you don't come write back.  We would all love to hear from you, to know what you've been up to these last six years.  Has it really been that long?  Come home, Remus, even if it's just to visit.  Don't let Sirius run you off forever.  Please._

_All our love (yes, I'm authorized to say that from all of us, too.),_

_Peter_

_P.S. - Please come!_

The little invitation card glared up at him from the tabletop, insidious in its very existence.  Offering him the chance to see Peter again.  Lily.  James was still up for debate whether he'd hug Remus or hex him, though it might be worth it.  But that all came with the risk of seeing Sirius.

"I'm not up for this today," Remus grumbled to no one.  To the ghost of friendships past staring him down.  He glared back at nothing for a moment before slowly hauling himself to his feet and stomping off back to bed, trying to convince himself that none of the past fifteen minutes had happened.

 

**SEPTEMBER 1, 1971**

The Hogwarts Express was already whistling for last call when Remus and his father broke through the wall at Platform 9 ¾, his father hauling his trunk behind him with a levitating charm placed on it so that Remus would be able to lift it himself once on the train.  It was only four days until the full moon, and they were running late because Remus' energy was flagging.  He knew he was supposed to be excited for this.  His first trip to Hogwarts.  The start of his magical schooling.  Well, officially, anyway.  He probably shouldn't count the handful of defensive spells and healing charms his father had taught him over the years.

He couldn't bring himself to be excited.  The muscle ache that had started the night before was fully permeating, and he felt a bit like he'd been used as a bludger.  Jumping when the whistle sounded again, Remus sighed and took his trunk from his father who hugged him, perhaps a bit longer than Remus was comfortable with.  He hoped it would keep going, until the bright red train sped off without him.

When news came that the old headmaster was gone and that his replacement, Professor Dumbledore, would in fact be letting Remus attend Hogwarts, affliction and all, he had been devastated.  His father, of course, was elated, going on about how well Remus would do there, how clever he was, and how he was going to get the best education a wizard could have.  Remus prudently didn't ask why an animal needed an education.

It wasn't, he mused, that he wasn't looking forward to the classes.  He loved learning, and there was no denying the excitement, the jittery adrenaline rush, at the thought of getting to spend his days learning the magic he had always marveled to watch his father perform effortlessly.

However, ever since he had been bitten he hadn't been allowed to play with the other kids in town.  Not even a couple of hours running around the park for fear that they might find out.  It was exhausting, trying to rebuff any attempts at friendship without seeming rude.  Having to do it all the time was more than Remus' moon-exhausted brain was ready to process.  He was quite ready to give up the chance at a better education to avoid being surrounded by potential friends he wasn't allowed to have.

"Make sure to have as much fun as you can safely manage," Remus' father breathed into his hair before letting go of the hug they had both been clinging to.  Remus heard the unspoken _Don't take risks.  Don't get found out._

"Don't worry about me, Dad," he murmured, shifting his trunk between hands, the levitation charm holding, hopefully until he was either safely on the train, or on his way back home where he could hide away in his room watching the other kids play out his window.

"You're my son, I'm always going to worry about you."

Remus scuffed his worn trainers, kicking one toe against the cement walk, wishing his mother had come along as well.  Her wonder at magic never wavered, and it would have been a welcome buffer right now.  Talking to his father had gotten hard.  Had probably always been hard, but now it was tinged with Remus' shame and his father's guilt, every word laced with subtext and apologies for things that were never either of their faults.  Talking to his father was simply exhausting.  He hated being reminded what a burden he was, and how he would always cause his family stress.  He hated his father treating him like he was fragile because he blamed himself.  Just for a day he wanted to know what it was like to be normal.

"Yeah, well, you don't have to."

Ignoring the tired sigh from his father, Remus glanced over his shoulder at the train and the handful of stragglers that were loading on.  Maybe he really could manage missing the train and get to go home.

"You should probably get a move on, Remus.  Don't want you missing the train, now."

Sometimes Remus was quite sure his father could read his mind.  Was that something they taught at Hogwarts?  It looked like he was going to find out, unfortunately.  "Yeah, probably," he mumbled, watching his father wring his fingers.  Maybe, at least, this would give his parents a break from him.  If he kept telling himself that he could just manage to force himself to step back towards the train, his feet dragging as he hauled his trunk behind him, not looking back to see the look of relief he could picture on his father's face.  He'd survive.  He always did.  He stepped off the platform.

The first thing that hit Remus as he hauled himself onto the train was the smell.  A permeating staticky smolder of discharged hexes mingled with the stale smell of too many teenagers in a small space.  He grabbed onto the wall to steady himself as the train lurched to life, pulling away from the station with an inexorable clank of wheels moving forward down the track.  A couple of older kids were racing down the hall and nearly knocked him over while he stood frozen in the hallway, floating trunk hovering at his side while he gripped tight to one of the handles as much to keep himself from floating away as it was to keep his trunk in place.

"Sorry!" Two voices drifted back, followed by matching grins under matching mops of bright red hair.  Remus shook his head but the double vision didn't go away, so he waved them off, glancing down the long corridor for an open compartment door.  When none opened up to swallow him he tightened his grip on his trunk, knuckles going red than white in rapid succession, and arbitrarily picked a direction, trudging off down the train, fighting for balance the whole way.

The cold wall against his trailing fingertips was grounding, reminding him that this was real as he peered in doorways looking for a place to hide himself away until they reached Hogwarts.  None of them were empty enough for him to feel comfortable trying to sneak in.  Full of other nervous looking kids like himself, or in some instances a couple of older kids that he didn't dare try and impose on.

He was just about to try again, leaning in to peek through the glass on the door when the door swung open, knocking into his shoulder and jostling his trunk.

The boy that leaned out didn't look any older than Remus, and was more glasses than face, hiding under a mess of wild black hair.  "Sorry, there, mate!  Didn't see you."

Rubbing at his shoulder, Remus huffed.  "It's okay.  I was trying to be easy to miss."

Glasses were pushed back up the nose, hair was shoved back absently, Remus' odd comment was thankfully ignored.  "Why haven't you stowed your trunk yet?"

"All the compartments are full," Remus mumbled, letting his eyes slide to the doorframe so he didn't have to try and make eye contact.

"Well, we have plenty of space.  Right?"  The last was directed inside the compartment where some muffled replies drifted back out.  "Budge over, Black, make room for our new friend."

The doorway was suddenly empty and three sets of eyes watched curiously as Remus, unable to think of any reason he could turn down space at this point in the trip, slipped hesitantly in.

"Wow!  Is your trunk levitating?" The small mousy-blond boy huddled next to the window asked, eyes wide, leaning forward to get a better look.

Remus tried to curl in on himself as he hoisted his trunk up to be secured, only needing one hand to do it.  He had to lash it to the shelf to keep it from drifting.  "Oh, umm, yeah.  Dad charmed it for me before I left.  Wasn't sure I could get it stowed on my own."  He hung his head, trying to look for all the world like he was more embarrassed by his father, than by speaking to kids his own age.

"That's just so neat!"

"Wish my mum would have charmed my trunk," his benefactor grumbled good naturedly, pushing his glasses back up his face again.  "I'm James, by the way."

Remus sank into the seat, curled tight against the wall by the door, trying to leave as much space between him and the boy he was sharing the bench with without looking odd about it.  He was just contemplating if it would be worse to introduce himself or be rude and pull out a book to hide behind when a drawling voice next to him hissed into his ear.

"And how do you make it _stop_ levitating?"

_Well, there's one person I won't need to push away later,"_ Remus thought to himself through the rush of terror that came with the realization that he could be stuck with these boys for the next seven years.

"Do you have to be such a bloody bastard, Black?" James growled, frowning.  "Don't mind him, mate, comes from a whole family of Slytherins, he's bound to be a bit of a git."

"I'm nothing like them!" The other boy, Black, hissed, lips a flat line, brow furrowed as he glared across at James.

"You're making a pretty good showing of it right now," James replied with a casual flip of his hand.

"Ignore them," the mousy boy from the corner whispered, clambering past James and plopping himself down across from Remus with a rueful grin.  "They've known each other for years, and sometimes this happens.  Sirius isn't as bad as he seems, just a grumpy git most of the time."  He indicated the surly boy to Remus' left with a shrug.  "I'm Peter, by the way."

Again, Remus was spared having to introduce himself when Sirius grumbled, "We might know each other, but that doesn't mean we like each other."

"That might be the first thing you've ever said that I agree with," James shot back.

"Then why did you share a compartment?" Remus asked before he could help himself, eyebrows up, looking between the two black haired boys who still hadn't stopped glaring at each other.

"Because there was nowhere else to sit!" They both hissed in complete unison, setting both Remus and Peter giggling, as much at the horror on both the faces of James and Sirius as at the tone of utter disgust from both boys.

Grinning, Remus tucked his knees up to his chest and dropped his cheek to one of them, arms wrapped tightly around his legs, trying to remember the last time he had ever laughed like that, out of pure amusement, and not coming up with anything.  He immediately felt guilty for thinking that this might turn out okay, for letting his guard down for a moment.  He wasn't allowed to like these boys, for their own good.

Remus bit his lip to choke off his laughter, closing his eyes under the pretense of catching his breath.  Maybe if he played shy well enough they'd get discouraged and let him alone for the rest of the trip.   

It was better that way.

 

**MAY 30, 1988**

When Remus woke the second time what little sun filtered through his heavy blinds was low in the sky.  Groaning, he buried his face deep in his pillow until he found it hard to breathe, and even then barely turned his head to the side.  Just enough to get oxygen in.  Anything more than that was more energy than he had to expend.  With only about thirty-six hours until the full moon rose all he wanted was to sleep for at least the next seventy-two hours, and with any luck he wouldn't wake up until it was over.   Or at all.

The old mattress sagged beneath his left hip as he tried to curl in on himself, but it was still hard beneath his shoulder, leaving him feeling like his arm was compressing into his ribs.  He tucked his worn comforter, soft with age, up around his shoulders, shivering, but then he was too warm and he kicked it off again.  Sleep was always tricky this close to the full moon, his hormones entirely irregular, the increase in appetite decreasing his melatonin levels, but the lethargy usually winning out.  Which amounted to him sleeping a whole lot, and then feeling hungover from too much sleep every time he woke up.  In about an hour he be ready to climb out of bed, and he'd be starving.  Of course, if his foggy memory from the first time he woke up proved to be true, he had no food.

Just a little invitation to a party he didn't want to know about, because he didn't know what to do.

"Well, bugger," he grumbled, and pulled his pillow up over his head.   

Ten minutes, that was as long as he let himself wallow before he very slowly and stiffly sat up and swung his legs over the edge of the bed.  He contemplated ignoring his glasses, but relented and slid them on his face while he worked up the energy to actually move.  "Not seeing it won't make it go away," he muttered, not sure if he was more grumpy about the slip of parchment waiting for him or the glasses he couldn't seem to keep clean.  He pulled them back off and wiped them off on his sleep shirt, but that just smudged the oils and made them foggier.  "How did James manage this all the time?"

_Probably because for James it was just an annoyance, not one more sign of his body falling apart faster than it should._  He couldn't bring himself to say that part out loud.  It sounded petulant even inside his own head.

It took another two minutes for the circulation made its way back down to his feet and the pins and needles of sleeping in a strange position wore off.  When he could finally stand without his legs shaking he threw on a rumpled pair of trousers and a threadbare grey t-shirt that may have started its life as Sirius' once upon a time, before stumbling out to his kitchen, already wishing he had given himself at least twenty minutes more than he had.

There, just where he left it, was a small scrap of parchment with a bit of card rolled neatly inside.  He very nearly threw it in the bin on sight.  He had been doing just fine thinking his friends had forgotten him, and he really didn't appreciate learning otherwise.

Turning his back on the intrusion, Remus went in search of what few francs he could scrounge up, counting out what he had left before his next meager paycheck came in for his anonymous work as a researcher for a small, independent publication on new and upcoming spells.   

It had been through his work that he had first learned of the Wolfsbane Potion a handful of years earlier, and had his hopes dashed just as quickly when he saw both how complex and how costly it would be to prepare.  His first bitter thought of _how in the world do they expect unemployed werewolves to afford this?_ still rang alarmingly true, and frequent, whenever it was getting close to the full moon and him needing to lock himself in the warded root cellar again.

He very pointedly did not even glance in the direction of the both magical and muggle reinforced steel door; seven centimeters thick with a double padlock that wolf paws couldn't reach.  It had once been a barn door from the old Chandrey farm a little ways up the road, abandoned for decades, that Remus transfigured when he first settled in the cottage.  After several thorough tests with some Exploding Elixir that he, thankfully, remembered how to brew, he had been confident that the transfiguration would hold.  For now, though, he liked to pretend that the root cellar was just what it said it was, and that the door had been like that when he got there.

The small purse he hid his money in was far lighter than he had hoped.  Not enough to justify a trip to the market.  He would just have to go back in a few days for more with what little he'd be able to purchase at the moment.

"All right, Remus, pull it together," Remus growled at himself, flinging the small purse of coins back into the drawer next to the refrigerator, and shoving until the sticky drawer gave up the fight and slid closed with an audible creak.  "Don't let simply reading Sirius' name make you maudlin.  You moved on years ago."  The words rang hollow, even in his own ears, sounding tinny and distant, coming from someplace many years earlier.

Shaking his head, and ignoring the impending headache he could feel building behind his left eye, he grabbed a large plastic container from the drying rack and shuffled out the door to his sparse garden.

It was brisk out, bordering on cool, which was doing his head no favors, and he shivered slightly, but didn't bother going back in for a jacket or even shoes.  His knees creaked in protest as he settled onto the ground, curling his legs under himself, trying to ignore the stiffness in his joints. He let his toes sink into the soil while he pulled up some carrots and beets, and found one of the few heads of cabbage that had come up that year.  A shredded slaw would have to do for supper.  It was probably all he could manage with the few things he could salvage from the garden, not to mention his flagging energy levels.

The dirt was cold and damp, and the air smelled like rain.  Remus closed his eyes for a moment and took a deep breath, enjoying the heavy, loamy scent mingling with the fresh scent of greens coming from the garden.  The moisture was seeping through the knees of his trousers and the cold was rapidly making his joints go stiff, but he just knelt there, a carrot in his hand, and breathed.

 

**OCTOBER 9, 1976**

Everything hurt.  Sometimes Remus was sure that the transformation made even his hair hurt.  It did make his skin hurt, from the stretch and pull over new bones and sinew, the fur that sprouted at rapid speed and receded just as quickly.

He could feel the dirt of the forest floor between his toes where his knee was bent back at a strange angle, and beneath his hip where his trousers slid low.  It took a few minutes before he could pry his eyes open to see where his friends had abandoned him this time.  The trees overhead gave him very little to go on, but the grey haze just peeking through the mostly bare branches said that it was still early.  Thankfully it was a Saturday, so no one would be looking for him except Madam Pomfrey, and she wouldn't come looking for a few hours yet.

"Moony, you awake?"  Sirius' voice rasped from somewhere above his head, towards his left shoulder, but he couldn't turn his head to look.

"S'rius?"

Fingers ran through his hair for a minute before a cloak dropped over his chest.  "Right here, Moony.  How are you doing this morning?"

Remus snorted and leaned into the hand still playing with his hair, letting himself wish for just a brief moment that it was there for more than comfort.  "Feel like all my bones have been broken and reformed.  Twice.  Without the chance for sleep in between."

"So, the usual, then?"  

Fighting the urge to roll over until his head was in Sirius' lap, Remus groaned, huddling into the cloak over him as best he could without getting up.  "Yeah, the usual, unfortunately."

"I don't know," Sirius said softly, laying down beside Remus, gently pulling him in so that an arm curled around Remus' shoulders, his head tucked under Sirius' chin.  "I think your usual is pretty great, actually."

"Padfoot," Remus hissed, his throat sore from the temporary elongation of his trachea, his voice still raspy from the stretch of his vocal cords.

"No worries, Moony, Pete fell asleep a few hours before sun up, and James took him back to the dorms as soon as you changed back.  I think he thinks we're still fighting and he wanted to give us a chance to talk."   

That almost got Remus to smile a little.  Not at the memory of why they had been fighting, but at both James' naivety and his good heart.  "He hasn't caught on that we've been speaking again for most of the term?"

Sirius shifted slightly so their feet tangled together, and Remus let him, wanting to soak up all of Sirius' warmth, his steady heartbeat nothing like Remus' erratic pounding every time they got close like this, his solid arms, even the long hair that tickled Remus' nose and made him want to sneeze.  It was a selfish thing, to take advantage of Sirius' caregiving and wish for more, but in the end Remus figured he would hurt himself more than anyone else.  And he couldn't stop the longing.  He had tried.  For months after the Incident that they no longer spoke of.  Even when he was quite sure he hated Sirius, he still couldn't let him go.

"Nah," Sirius cut in, pulling Remus slowly out of his thoughts, murky and sticky like swimming in treacle.  "Ever since Sniv-" he cut himself off with a deep breath, the rise and fall of his chest lifting Remus' head.  "Snape.  Ever since Snape became even more of a git than usual Lily has been giving Prongs the time of day.  He hasn't noticed much else."

Fingers slid under the hem of the loose shirt Remus wore for the transformations, the one he could risk shredding.  Warm against his skin, running lightly against the edge of his hipbone. It made him shiver in ways that had decidedly nothing to do with the chilly weather.   

Remus gingerly lifted an arm and covered Sirius' hand with his own.

"Remus?"

"I'm sorry, Padfoot, but as lovely as the idea of getting you naked right now is, I simply don't have the energy at the moment."

For a brief, insane moment, Remus was sure he felt lips press to the top of his head, but that couldn't be correct.  They didn't do that.  They shagged, that was it.  Sirius was his friend, who occasionally liked to get him naked in bed, because it was far safer than the risk of figuring out which blokes weren't going to hex him if approached.  They didn't kiss.  They didn't cuddle unless it was after the full moon.  And they certainly didn't talk about it.  No matter what Remus may wish.

"That's all right, Moony.  I wasn't looking to shag.  I just wanted to enjoy your skin a little while you work up the energy to get back to the shack to meet Madam Pomfrey.  I know where your heart truly lies."

"Well, maybe if you gave me pain potions I'd give you my heart instead," Remus choked out, hoping he sounded as flippant as he didn't feel.

A quick squeeze of Sirius' fingers and Remus let go, letting Sirius start running his fingers idly over his sore hip again.  "You shouldn't," Sirius said after a moment, his voice quieter than Remus was used to, edging on a whisper in the way that teenage boys usually couldn't manage, heavy and solemn.  "I'm sure I'd break it on you."

That, of all things, was what made Remus smile, although tucked under Sirius' chin as he was no one could see it.  He probably shouldn't say it, the conversation bordering too close to things they didn't talk about by mutual, unspoken, agreement.  Risking making things even more awkward between them, he said it anyway.  "That's all right, Sirius.  I'd let you."

 

**JUNE 1, 1988**

The cement floor was cold, leaving gooseflesh down Remus' bare back where he curled in on himself on the ground.  It was dark and he was momentarily disoriented before he remembered that the light had blown a couple of days earlier and he hadn't had the chance to replace it, and no light came through the windows that he had barricaded off.  It wouldn't do to have a wandering muggle spot the wolf through an open window.  He didn't need them, anyway.  It wasn't as if the wolf cared if it was dark.

He tried to sit up, only to wince at the sharp pain down his ribs, left side, bottom two.  "Damn," he hissed, gingerly pressing on them with torn up palms.  They didn't feel broken, but he did leave a smear of blood across his side, just above the edge of his trousers.

A quick prod confirmed not only scuffed palms, but one solid gash across the meat of his right hand.  "Well, that will make wand handling a bit difficult," he sighed, trying to close his fist around the swelling and failing.

"All right, then," he continued, talking quietly to himself.  "Let's see how bad it is."  Groaning, he leveraged himself to his feet, knees popping.  Only one ankle seemed to be unsteady, which was a marked improvement over the last month.

He stumbled his way to the wall and felt around until he found the stairs.  After spending the night as a wolf his eyes always seemed particularly useless in the dark.  Fortunately, seventeen months of full moons in the same cellar and he had gotten fairly used to feeling his way around.

It took three tries for his knees to hold while he laboriously clambered his way up the steps to the padlocked door.  While he felt around for the key that was fastened  above the door jamb, shoulder screaming out at the stretch of freshly reformed muscles and ligaments, he muttered the counter spell to release the magical wards.   

After the first time he had locked himself in, only to wake up in the middle of the woods the next morning with the door still locked, he had put up extra strength anti-apparition wards.  Apparently being in wolf form didn't stop latent magical bursts, much like a child would put out before they learned control, and it seemed he had wanted to run.  It had taken a few tries before he got the spell wandless, but it was either that or risk getting out again.  Once was enough for a lifetime.

Stiff fingers fumbled down the key, only nearly dropping it twice when his hands didn't want to cooperate, and he felt around for the padlocks.  One then the other clicked open, and the door swung out with a groan of tired metal that echoed through his bones.

Squinting at the sudden influx of light, Remus stumbled out of the cellar and closed the door behind him with a reassuring clang that indicated another month passed, another moon survived.   

His wand and his glasses were both where he left them on the kitchen table, right next to the invitation that he still hadn't dealt with.   

"Leaving it out where you have to see it every day isn't going to make your decision for you," Remus berated himself, sinking into one of the kitchen chairs and trying to get a firm hold on his wand for a couple of hasty healing charms.  The grip wouldn't come to him.

"Okay," he continued, talking to himself for the lack of anyone else to talk to.  Some days the quiet was too much and one sided conversation was better than nothing.  "Fight with the coffee maker, or go to bed?"

As if in answer the coffee maker hissed and spit the dregs of yesterday’s coffee all over the wall.

Remus sighed and switched his wand to his left hand, flicking it in the direction of the coffee maker, which started gurgling and whining and rocking on the counter.  Once he was certain that it wasn't going to rock itself free and fall to the floor he shot an _aguamenti_ at it, filling it with water, but reusing the grounds that were still in it.  Fresh ones were beyond the abilities of his left handed charm casting, and his knees definitely were arguing against getting up again so soon.

While the coffee percolated, sounding a bit like a combination of waves on jagged rock and boiling Energizing Elixir, which wasn't entirely far off of what it was, Remus gingerly scooped up Peter's letter and reread it for the seventh time in the two days since it had arrived.   

"Peter sounds like he really means it that he wants to hear from me," he mused, running slightly shaky fingers through his hair.  "But that doesn't mean that anyone else does."  He threw the parchment back on the tabletop, sure that it was taunting him, taking up permanent residency where he had to face it until he could come to terms with his demons and decide to go.

It wasn't taking no for an answer.

Preempting the coffee pot shrieking at him, Remus slowly shoved himself to his feet, knees grating as they straightened out, feeling a bit like they were full of gravel.  "Going to have to shift those when I can hold my wand right again," he muttered, frowning down at where the cartilage hadn't quite set back where it was supposed to when he transformed back.  The left knee buckled.  "Or maybe before, if I can manage without making it worse."

"Pour me out!  Pour me out!"

He wasn't able to move fast enough and the weak, watery coffee started spewing all over the walls and the floor, and a not inconsiderable amount across his chest and arms.  Thankfully it wasn’t very hot this time, the volatile temperament of the pot sometimes producing scalding coffee, and sometimes barely lukewarm.

Standing there staring at the mess for a moment, Remus felt something welling up in his chest.  For a moment he thought he might actually cry from sheer exhaustion.  "I'm so tired of doing this alone!" He shouted, reverberating through the empty cottage, startling himself and probably the pixies that had taken up residence in the hollowed out oak tree outside the window.   

He didn't usually admit that to himself.

 

**NOVEMBER 17, 1972**

"Werewolf."  The word hung in the air like a fifth body, taking up as much width and breadth as a tangible presence.  Maybe it was.  The specter of a wolf, prowling around the dormitory room, unseen, waiting for the perfect moment to pounce and inexorably alter Remus' life.  Again.  

It was James who had said it, but it was Sirius who was watching Remus with narrowed eyes, waiting for him to deny it, to lie to their faces again, to imply that they were far less clever than they were.  It was Sirius who still expected to be treated like the untrustworthy, bigoted Slytherin he hadn't turned out to be.  Remus was half sure that Sirius would stick up for him, even against James and Peter, just to prove he was nothing like the rest of his family.  Even if he didn't mean a word of it.

Remus didn't have the space left in his lungs for the words that were clamoring to escape.  He could feel his hands start shaking, his pulse in his ears and his chest tight.  The expected terror, though, was not present.  Numbness was winning out.  This had always been inevitable.  He had been a fool to believe he could hide his condition for seven years.  He had been doubly a fool for risking trying to have friends.

"I'm sorry," he breathed, twisting his fingers into the blanket that was still pooled around his lap from being ambushed before he had even climbed out of bed.  The temptation to pull the blanket up over his head and pretend that none of this was happening, to try and make it so that if he closed his eyes for long enough he'd wake up and find that he still had friends, was nearly overwhelming.  He didn't let himself try.

"So, you're not going to deny it?" Sirius asked, voice sharp, lashing across Remus like claws.  Like teeth.  The words had bite and Remus didn't have the energy to bite back.

He shook his head, gaze determinedly focused on his lap, unwilling to meet the eyes of the boys he called his friends.  He didn't want to see the fear there.

"Good." Sirius snapped, and the bed dipped where he sat next to Remus, crowding him and making him shrink in on himself a little.  "I hate being lied to."

"I'm sorry," Remus repeated, miserable, breathing starting to get ragged, eyes burning.  "I'll owl my parents.  They'll come get me.  You don't..." He choked, throat tight.  This was the end of it.  He'd failed.  His father would be so disappointed.  His friends weren't friends anymore.  "You don't..." He tried again, but his voice cracked while he fought not to cry.

"Wait.  Leave?  Why would you leave?" Peter sounded so startled that Remus looked up, blinking rapidly to try and see through the wetness in his eyes without letting it spill.

"I think we may have scared him," James sighed, shaking his head and glancing between Peter and Sirius.  "We don't want you to leave," he added, smiling at Remus who wasn't quite sure what to make of that.

"We definitely don't want you to leave," Peter reiterated, perching himself on the foot of Remus' bed, holding on to one of the posts to keep balanced when James flung himself down as well, bouncing the entire bed.

"We want to help!" Sirius added, slinging an arm around Remus' shoulders, but somehow still managing to sound sharp, fierce.   

_Maybe,_ Remus thought to himself, _That's what worry sounds like from Sirius._  It was a startling thought, that someone might be worried about him rather than simply exhausted by him.  It was an even more startling thought that that someone might be Sirius Black.

"Collect your work when you have to miss class," James said, grabbing ahold of Peter to keep him from falling, and hauling him further onto the bed where they both tumbled across Remus' legs.

"Nick you food from the kitchens while you're recovering," Peter grinned, upside down and tangled up with James.

"Hex any Slytherins who might have something to say when you're exhausted," Sirius added with a sharp grin and a tightening of the arm that was still around Remus.

"So, you really just want me to be your excuse to get into more trouble," Remus said, tears starting to escape despite his best efforts at holding them in.

"Well, of course," Sirius replied, tugging on Remus until he collapsed into Sirius' side, getting a mouthful of hair.  "Can't have people thinking we actually _like_ you, now can we?  Gotta keep up our reputation for mischief and mayhem."

Remus let himself curl against Sirius, hiding his face against Sirius' shoulder so they couldn't see him cry.

"You don't have to do this alone, Remus.  That's what friends are for," James said, sounding far more adult than twelve years old.  For a brief moment Remus wondered at how nice it must have been to have the kind of parents to learn that sort of empathetic behavior from, instead of parents to learn how to hide and lie from, no matter how good the intentions.  Parents who would love him just the way he was, not despite the way he was.

"Let us help," Sirius added, kindly not mentioning that his shoulder was suspiciously wet suddenly.

"We want to," Peter piped up.

"You lot are nutters," Remus said, much softer than he intended, the closest thing to thank you that a twelve year old boy could manage while crying and still hold on to what little dignity he had left.

 

**JUNE 14, 1988**

Remus leaned heavily against the brick wall outside the little owlery, crumbling brick digging into his shoulder blades, grounding, keeping him from shaking apart.  His knees were a little wobbly, and he had to take several deep breaths before he felt like his legs would support his own weight again, tucking his glasses into his shirt pocket and scrubbing at his face for a minute.

A light drizzle was dripping from the grey sky, but Remus didn't bother with any protective charms.  Rather, he let the damp, gloomy weather settle into his bones, chilling him and perfectly matching his gloomy mood.

It was done.  Letter posted back to Peter committing to attending the weird reunion thing that James had started.  Handed over to a bored postmaster and promptly tied to a lovely barn owl that had hooted in his ear on its way past him, out to deliver his fate.

"Okay, Remus," he muttered, hefting himself off the wall and testing his legs.  "So the desire to see Peter, James and Lily was greater than the desire to continue avoiding Sirius.  That should mean something right there."

Shaking his head, he started the long trudge through town and back to his cottage, not putting his glasses back on, letting his hazy vision match his hazy thoughts.  He could have Apparated, but he wasn't ready to be alone in his cottage with no company except for all the different ways this could turn out that were drifting through his head unbidden.  At least the walk gave him a change in scenery, and the wind and the trees and the rain to talk to.  None of it would talk back, and he was certainly garnering some not so subtle looks as he talked to himself walking down the muddy road, dripping from the light rain.  But it was better than sitting at home stewing and wondering if it was too late to track down that owl and get his response back.

"Who are you kidding," he continued, ignoring the look the young mother across the street gave him as she ushered her children into the small bakery.  "This is really just the perfect excuse to finally _stop_ avoiding Sirius.  It's not as though you haven't missed him, too.  Probably more than the other three combined."

He bit his lip as soon as the words left his mouth.  Despite there being no one but the birds around to hear him, saying it out loud felt a little like tempting fate.  Like it wasn't true until he said it.  He had been avoiding that hollow place behind his breastbone for so long that it felt like it had always been there.  Just another ache carved out by his lycanthropy that he could forcefully ignore while it festered and ate away at him.

Some days it hurt more than others, was easier to avoid thinking about at all.  It was simply another in a long list of facts that he tried to ignore.   

Fact: He was a werewolf. Fact: Sirius deserved better than a werewolf.  Fact:  Sirius _knew_ he deserved better than a werewolf.  Fact: Sirius was too kind to ever say that to Remus.  Fact: He had been Sirius' experimentation, his trial run, not his forever.  Fact: He loved Sirius, even after all these years, so much so that he was willing to break his own heart just to see Sirius' face one more time.

Really, going to the reunion was sort of inevitable, even if it had taken Remus a while to realize it.  One of his friends had asked him to go and he was never very good at saying no to his friends.  Even when it hurt.  He had never been one to shy away from things that hurt him.  He was used to the pain.

He stepped in a puddle, too focused inward to notice it right in front of him, and soaked himself halfway up his thigh with the splash he created.  "Well fuck," he hissed.  But the muggle couple across the street watching him bumble around like a drunkard leaving the pub kept him from casting any drying charms.  What was one more discomfort, anyway?

Finally, recklessly, he ducked behind a copse of trees just outside of town, put his glasses back on, and Apparated.  Enough was enough.  Time to stop wallowing, get dry, put some supper on the stove if he could find any, and put this entire thing out of his head.  Dwelling wouldn't change that he had officially committed to going, or that the more he thought about Sirius the more the knot in his stomach twisted and tangled, until he was so tied up he couldn't figure out how to breathe. That wasn't all that new where Sirius was concerned.  He had gotten used to working around it.

 

**JUNE 23, 1978**

Remus had never been so glad that Sirius had been getting better at the silencing charms lately.  The groan he let out sounded obscene to his own ears, and he was very thankful that James and Peter couldn't hear him.

"Is that okay, Moony?" Sirius asked quietly, fingers digging into the muscles down Remus' back.

Too pliant to answer, Remus just arched up into Sirius' pressing fingers, searching for more contact, hoping he was able to convey how much he was enjoying the touch.

It wasn't as if he didn't know where this was going.  They never ended up in bed together without it leading to sex eventually.  Particularly just after a full moon; a day or two of recovery and then Sirius wanted to take care of him in other ways.  It wasn't even that Remus minded, just more that he was currently enjoying the gentle touches and soft contact that he rarely got.  Sex didn't come with gentle often, and certainly not any sort of intimacy that wasn't physical.  He knew the rules, but he wasn't above enjoying this when it was on offer.

Sighing, Remus turned his head so he could catch a glimpse of Sirius where he was straddling Remus' lower back, using the leverage to work every last ounce of tension from Remus, leaving him a relaxed puddle, craving things he wasn't allowed to have.

Warm fingers worked their way down his bare back, alternating between intense pressure and light trailing touches.  When they reached the dip above his arse he let out a small whimper.   

Sirius chuckled, and then there were teeth, nipping at his shoulder while a hand slid down to palm his arse, squeezing just the right side of too hard.  He could feel the response that Sirius' body had to him, and a small part of him preened internally.  Being wanted physically was certainly better than nothing.  He would take what he was given and be grateful for it.

He yelped, startled, when a finger slid inside him.  The warm weight of Sirius draped across his back coupled with the biting, sucking kisses being dropped across his neck and shoulders had distracted him from hearing the preparation and lube charms.  He was unwilling to entertain the idea that Sirius had gotten good enough to perform them silently.  That way lead to thinking that had Sirius practiced, and that lead to hope that he didn't have the stomach for.

"You all right?" Sirius stilled his hand, nose just brushing through the fringe of hair at the nape of Remus' neck.  He kept meaning to have that cut, but hadn't gotten around to it, liking the way that Sirius sometimes tugged at it more than he disliked the length.

"You'd think that they'd have found a way for that charm to give off lube that wasn't cold," he muttered, a truth he was willing to give.

Sirius chuckled and slid in a second finger.

Relishing the stretch, Remus tried to push back on those fingers, but Sirius flung a leg low across his thighs, pinning him, whispering, "Please just let me take care of you, Moony.  Let me.  Please.  Just like this."

Torn between wanting Sirius to bloody hurry it up already, and feeling overwhelmingly desired, Remus just breathed out, "Fuck, Sirius," half command, half awe.   

Theoretically the preparation charm made this part superfluous, but Sirius was treating him like he was fragile, was opening him up so gently that the part of him that was craving intimacy won out over the thrumming of his body, screaming for them to get on with things.

When Sirius slid his fingers out and reached for his wand for an additional lube charm, Remus took advantage to roll over so he was facing Sirius.  They had only done this once before, face to face, but if this was going to be their last night at Hogwarts, their last chance for the freedom of seeing each other every day, he was going to make sure he could watch Sirius' face one last time.

He was grateful that Sirius didn't say anything about the change in position, just pressed their foreheads together as he pressed in, the stretch making Remus groan and tangle his fingers in Sirius' hair, hanging like a curtain around them both.  He had never been more grateful that Sirius refused to cut it just to irritate his mother, even years after leaving home.

The first slow thrust had Remus already arching up to meet Sirius, the benefit of all the charm work being that there was no adjustment time even though it had been nearly a month since they had last been able to be together like this.

"You're so perfect, Moony," Sirius breathed into his ear, finding his rhythm, hips only stuttering slightly when Remus hitched one knee up around Sirius' hip.  He couldn't quite get his leg around Sirius' back like he would have liked, his joints too stiff to fully cooperate.

"You should come live with me in the flat I bought," Sirius continued, completely oblivious to the way Remus forgot how to breathe for a moment. "It would be brilliant.  You already know me.  You wouldn't care if I spent half the night out, on, say, a flying motorcycle.  I already know all about you turning furry once a month, and your horrible penchant for adding sugar to your tea, which, let me tell you is the far more heinous of the two things."

Remus stilled, eyes going wide as he stared up at Sirius, who noticed the change and stilled as well, still pressed flush together.  "Moony?"

"You want me to live with you?" Remus asked, wishing he was better at hiding the hesitancy even he could hear in his voice, the shake of his vowels, the caution in his percussives, the way he could barely get sound out.

"Well, yeah.  I mean, we could do this," Sirius paused and drew himself out of Remus, deliberately languid, before pushing back in interminably slowly, drawing a long groan from Remus despite himself. "Every night," he finished, grinning down at Remus.

Remus hitched his leg slightly higher, tucking Sirius in close and urging him to start moving again to try and buy himself some time.  Fortunately, Sirius didn't seem to notice his sudden distraction.

Did he really want to live with Sirius indefinitely, shagging when it suited them, watching Sirius flit about with no real tie to Remus other than sex?  It was one thing to take what he could get, coupled with a generous side helping of pity, while they were at school, confined to a small shared space, but to choose that for himself?

On the other hand, he would get to see Sirius every day.  Touch him when he chose, never worry about finding a little privacy.  Watching Sirius grow distant, shagging with no emotional connection.

Sirius hit the perfect angle and Remus was wrenched from his thoughts by a jolt of pleasure furling down his spine.  "Fuck, Sirius, do that again!"   

Grinning, Sirius complied, reaching a hand down to palm Remus, stroking with just the right pressure and speed.  Like he knew how Remus liked it.  Like he had paid attention.  Remus' heart couldn't take that thought just then.

It only took a handful of strokes before Remus was spilling himself over Sirius' hand, biting down hard on his lip to keep from saying anything he would regret.  Or from trying to kiss Sirius.  He watched Sirius' face screw up in orgasm just a moment later, before he collapsed on top of Remus with a small grunt, slipping free, but not moving away.

"Move in with me, Moony," Sirius asked again, less question this time, more directive.

"That flying motorbike comment seemed oddly specific, Sirius," Remus muttered, resisting the urge to wrap his arms around his friend to keep him from moving away.

Sirius didn't take the bait, although he did grin a little sheepishly, which made Remus roll his eyes.  "Please," was the only reply he got.

"I suppose I could tell my parents that there are more job opportunities if I stay in London," Remus said, closing his eyes so he didn't have to see the look on Sirius' face.  He would survive a few more years of being Sirius' bedmate if it meant he got to keep Sirius around for a little while longer.  He had gotten pretty good at hiding how in love with Sirius he was.  He was pretty good at keeping secrets.  He could manage for a few more years until Sirius got bored with him finally.

 

**AUGUST 27, 1988**

Rather than admit that he couldn't arrange for his own portkey, Remus Apparated into Hogsmeade a few hours before the party was scheduled to begin.  It looked very much like he remembered it, which startled him a little.  It felt like the world had moved on without him sometimes, but coming back here felt more like he had moved on without the rest of the world.  He had gotten old while everything else remained the same.

He wandered around for a little while, but the nostalgia was tinged with an empty feeling when every memory came with the urge to laugh about it with three boys he no longer knew.  Sometimes he felt he no longer even knew himself.

"Twenty-eight should not feel this old," he muttered, pushing open the door to The Three Broomsticks, hoping to grab a Butterbeer and remember how to breathe before he headed up to Hogwarts.

"That's because twenty-eight is _not_ old, Remus Lupin, and I won't have you saying otherwise!" A voice huffed from off to his left, half disgruntled half amused.

"Rosmerta," Remus smiled and accepted the offer of a hug.  She smelled like stale Butterbeer, wood polish and warm bread; like being fifteen and belonging; like being nineteen and jealous when she casually flirted with the man he wasn't supposed to let on he was shagging.  He pulled back quickly before the need to wipe his eyes became obvious.

"I see you've decided to show up for that big to-do going on up at the school today.  Course, it was planned by your mate, so I shouldn't be too shocked."  

His face must have been doing something he was unaware of because she laughed.  "They stopped in here for supper a couple of times while they were here making arrangements.  Potter and his wife.  She seems to have settled him down nicely."

Remus shrugged, and refused to catch her eye.  "I wouldn't know," he mumbled, sounding more bitter than he intended, not sure if the statement was for her or for himself, not sure if he cared.

"What did those boys do to you?"

Remus let out a choked off laugh, more gasp than anything, before he could stop himself.  He shook his head.  "Nothing.  They didn't do anything."

"That doesn't sound like nothing, Mr. Lupin," she tutted, ushering him to a stool at the bar and pouring a small tumbler of Ogden's.

He took a sip, letting it burn on the way down his throat, but set it back down, not wanting to be even the slightest bit muddled when he finally worked up the nerve to head up to Hogwarts.  It had been years since good alcohol had been in his budget, and he wasn't sure how much he could drink anymore.  Better not to test it.

The golden liquid was shaking in the glass, and it took him a moment to realize it was his hands that were shaking.  He knocked back the rest of the drink in one swallow.

"Does it have anything to do with that pretty one you were in love with?  Black?" She asked quietly, refilling his glass.

Remus choked on his next inhalation, coughing for a moment, and frowning at Rosmerta, who shrugged.  "I've been doing this job a long time, Mr. Lupin.  I've learned to recognize the signs.  Did that boy break your heart?"

Shaking his head, Remus sighed and forced himself to ignore the Firewhiskey that was tempting him with its promise of courage and calm.  "No, Rosmerta, I broke my own heart."

"Well, then you'd best head on up to that castle and set it right," she said, firm, refusing the Sickles he held out for the drink.

"What happened to that pity I was getting a minute ago?" He asked, but he offered up a small smile for her anyway, the first he'd meant in months.

"I don't have time to pity gits who cause their own trouble.  You go on up there and fix it."

He took a shuddering breath, then another.  "What happens when it's been too long.  When it's no longer fixable."  It was more statement than question, something he had resigned himself to being true.

Rosmerta fixed him with a solid glare.  "Then you come back on down here and the Ogden's and the pity are both on me.  But not until you've given it a good try."  She nudged his shoulder.  "Now go on.  I happen to know they've opened up the Apparition class space in the Great Hall for party arrivals.  So, you can just pop yourself right on up to that castle from here.  Get."

One last deep breath and Remus closed his eyes, and felt himself condense in on himself, squeezing impossibly down until he burst out again to the noise and smells of a large group of people already having fun.

He had barely opened his eyes again when a pair of arms were flinging themselves around his shoulders and he got a face full of red hair.  "Remus!"

"Hey there, Lily," he whispered, unsure if he should hug her back or gently disentangle himself.  The way she tightened her grip like he was going to disappear made his decision for him, though, and he cautiously wrapped his arms around her still slim frame, flattered by a pale yellow sundress.  "How much have you had to drink?" He asked, making sure to keep his tone light.  Over her shoulder he saw Kingsley Shacklebolt with an arm each around Marlene McKinnon and Dorcas Meadows.  They were chatting with the Prewett twins.

"Just the one glass, I'm just happy to see you.  Can you believe it's been ten years since we've been here?"

"At least someone is," he muttered before he could stop himself, ignoring the second half of her statement.  He really couldn't but that paled in comparison to how he was feeling about seeing them all again, and it hadn't been ten years for that.

Lily pulled back just slightly and smacked him on the arm.  Hard.

"We're all happy to see you," James said, sidling up to Lily and detaching her from Remus.   

James was a bit of a shock.  His ever wild hair was thinning, cropped close and pulling back at the temples, despite not even being thirty yet.  Remus felt a little better about the grey threading through his own hair, seeing that.  The large plastic glasses he had always worn were replaced with smaller metal frames and his red dress robes did nothing to hide the fact that he had gone a little soft around the middle, probably the result of still eating like he was sixteen and not having Quidditch to burn it off anymore.  His smile was still the same, though, even if it did now make his eyes crinkle slightly at the corners.

"James," Remus said softly, breathing out a long slow breath, not sure how to react.  It was like a blow, seeing all the time accumulated in a visible reminder that he had let these people slip away without a word.

"Even Harry is excited to finally meet his Uncle Remus," James continued, either oblivious to Remus' distress, or simply ignoring it and letting Remus settle himself without drawing attention to it.  Either way Remus was grateful.

"Wait, Harry is here?"  He looked around the Great Hall full of old classmates as well as a nearly equal number of people who had been in years both ahead and behind them.  What he didn't see were any young children running around, climbing under tables, tugging on parent's hands.

"They've set up a nursery in the Hufflepuff common room.  Hagrid's in charge," Peter chuckled, joining the group by clapping Remus on the arm.

Remus blinked twice, almost unable to recognize his old friend.  Peter had lost quite a bit of weight, and his hair was neatly trimmed and styled, his blue dress robes pressed and fitted well, obviously custom tailored.   

He was, thankfully, spared having to comment when Peter continued.  "Harry and some of the Weasley brood," he nodded in the direction of Molly Weasley, who was standing with her brothers, frowning at Kingsley Shacklebolt, "have commandeered the Meadows-McKinnon-Shacklebolt toddler and are using her as a doll, last I saw."  

The first thought Remus had was, _Meadows-McKinnon-Shacklebolt?  Well, that explains a lot._  Thankfully he caught himself before he let that slip out.  Instead, he forced a laugh.  "I hope they didn't hyphenate all of that and force it on that poor child."

That caused both James and Lily to pull up short, frowning.  "I don't _think_ so," James hedged, running his hand through his shorter hair, then looking a little startled, like the cut was new and he had forgotten it wasn't there anymore.  Remus wondered if Lily made him clean up before the party.

"That would be levels of cruelty even _my_ mother wouldn't stoop to, and McKinnon at the very least has a good head on her shoulders.  So, I doubt it."

The voice that came from behind him was so familiar that Remus forgot how to breathe.  Couldn't turn around.  Couldn't Apparate out fast enough, or remember how to Apparate in the first place.  His hands were shaking and he balled them into his pockets, clenched so tight his knuckles popped.

"Sirius," he whispered still refusing to turn around, hoping childishly that if he didn't see Sirius maybe he wouldn't really be there.

"Hey, there, Moony.  It's been a while."

 

**JULY 17, 1982**  
   
The little sofa Remus was curled up on wasn't quite long enough for his legs, knees dangling over the arm of the seat like a toddler.  He was even kicking his heels against the edge of the frame, arrhythmic, keeping erratic time, a metronome slowing down with the droop of his eyes.  He had given up on his attempts at working his way through _The Count of Monte Cristo_ in the original French.  It was slow going, his French worse than he had thought, but it was progressing in bits and drabs.

Sirius had been due home an hour ago, but that wasn't unusual when he went to visit his godson, so Remus hadn't quite worked himself up to worrying yet.  Content to doze, slipping in and out of coherent thought.  If Sirius took more than another hour he might pop through the Floo just to make sure everything was all right.  If he was still awake.  Sirius wouldn't like him worrying, and he didn't want to make Sirius feel smothered.  That might be the thing that finally convinced him this arrangement was no longer worth it.

Jumping awake at the bang of Apparition, Remus looked around to find Sirius looking chagrined.

"Did you land on the ottoman again?" Remus chuckled, bleary, rubbing at his eyes and purposefully not checking the time.

"Of course not!" Sirius grumbled, rubbing his shin, his pale skin slightly pink.  Remus wanted to taste it.

"So, how's your godson?"  Swinging his legs down from the chair, Remus stretched until he saw stars.  He wasn't thirteen anymore, sleeping in arm chairs was no longer the wisest maneuver.  

When he sat back up and opened his eyes, still waiting for a response, he found Sirius staring at the place where his shirt must have risen up while he was stretching.  Shaking his head, he smiled.  "Sirius?"

One slow blink.  Two.  Then, "He'd be your godson, too, Moony, if you had let them."

Remus sighed.  This was an old argument.  As old as Harry.  "There is no possible way a werewolf would be allowed to raise that child if there were any other options.  No point telling him things that won't happen."   _Or me,_ he thought grimly.   

Sirius looked like he was going to argue for a minute, but he just frowned and looked away.  "Harry's great.  Full of energy.  I made sure to give him a bar of Honeydukes Best just before Lily and Prongs made it home."

A snort escaped before he could help himself.  "Of course you did."

"Hey, my godson deserves the best of everything, even sugar rushes."

"Particularly when you don't have to deal with them?"

"You know me so well, Moony."  Sirius flicked his wand and the kettle started hissing, loud enough to be heard from where Remus was curled up in the parlor.  "We really need a new kettle," Sirius grumbled, but he levitated in two mugs of tea and the sugar for Remus, wrinkling his nose, but grinning.

"Yes, yes, I'm quite aware of your feelings on my sugar habits," Remus grumbled, grinning back, comfortable with the ache behind his breastbone that still happened every time Sirius smiled at him.  "Also, an owl came for you while you were out.  It hasn't exploded yet, so it probably isn't urgent.  I've left it on the table."

That's when the kettle started shrieking, and Sirius, who already had two mugs and a sugar bowl floating in front of him just blinked at Remus until Remus summoned the kettle, followed by the bit of parchment that he'd left rolled up on the kitchen table.

The tea poured itself while Sirius unrolled the scroll, face pinching off as he looked at it.

"That's your dealing with your mother face," Remus said, cautious, not really sure he should be bringing it up, but wanting to smooth out the lines that had formed between Sirius' eyes.

Nothing for a moment, then, Sirius slammed his fist down, sloshing his tea.  Remus flicked a cleaning charm at the puddle a waited.

"She wants to know when I'm going to find a nice pureblood girl, settle down and get married, and stop wasting my time with blood traitors."  Sirius crumpled the parchment up and threw it in the fireplace where it smoldered for a minute before catching, crumbling away like the last bit of Remus' hope for a pleasant evening.

"It's bad enough that she's still harping on this pureblood thing to me, but she can't even get the part where I don't like women?  I mean, Lily's a nice enough bird, but I certainly don't want to shag her!" Sirius continued, ignoring both his tea and Remus, who wanted to wrap his arms around Sirius until he stilled, but knew better than to try.

"Well, I'm sure James is grateful for that, at the very least," he tried, but got no response.

"Has she not noticed that I haven't responded to a single one of her nagging letters?  What do I have to do to get her to finally leave me the bloody fuck alone!" Sirius was working himself up to full rant, and Remus could do nothing but watch.  He reached to comb Sirius' hair back from his face, but caught himself before he actually made contact, dropping his hand back into his lap.  Sirius didn't seem to notice, pushing it back himself, only to have it fall across his face again.

Standing up, Remus collected the untouched tea cups, cleaning them up manually to give Sirius a little space.  He had just gotten the cups and the sugar bowl balanced when Sirius went very abruptly still, letting out a long slow breath.

"We should get married, Moony."

One of the cups shattered on the floor when Remus suddenly lost all grip in his hands.

"What?"

Sirius flicked his wand and repaired the tea cup, banishing it to the kitchen without even looking.  "Marry me, Remus."

Very carefully setting down what was still in his hands, Remus stood there for a minute counting out his breathing, in one two three four, out one two three four, before his knees just simply gave out on him and he landed on the sofa with a soft thud.

"What? No." It was out of his mouth before he could stop himself.  The thought of marrying Sirius, of pretending at more than they were, simply to spite his mother the final straw.

A brief flicker of what almost looked like hurt flashed across Sirius' face before he closed off, Remus unable to read anything in him.

"Why not?" He asked, voice flat, bland, blank.

Remus sighed.  Here it was.  The moment he finally had to break his own heart.  "We shag, Sirius, that's it.  And it's great, it is.  But it's not exactly marriage material."

He expected Sirius to shout, to get belligerent, maybe even deny it.  What he didn't expect was for Sirius to hunch in on himself and stand, shoulders curled down, face away from Remus.  "So that's it, then," he said softly, arms curled around his middle.

Remus wanted to straighten him out, to take it back, to do anything to make Sirius stop looking so fragile, to take the pain for himself if he could.  "Yeah, I guess that's it."

Sirius nodded once, grabbed up the Floo powder, still not turning around.  "I'll be with James if you change your mind.  This doesn't have to be the end, Remus."

He didn't give Remus a chance to reply, just stepped into the Floo and disappeared.

Remus took a minute to choke back the scream he could feel bubbling up inside until they welled up in gasping sobs.  He gave himself ten minutes to completely break down, then he tucked the tears away, wiped his face, straightened his back and went to pack a bag.  Seven years of living side by side with the life he actually wanted, just touching upon it, never quite delving in.  Gone.  Just like he needed to be.

 

**AUGUST 27, 1988 - Still**

Seeing Sirius again was overwhelming, the want nearly choking him.  Remus thought he had remembered how drawn to Sirius he had always been.  He had been lying to himself.

The long hair was gone, cleaned up neat and short, barely falling over his eyes now, rather than brushing his shoulders as it once had, but his eyes were still the same, drilling into Remus, looking for six year old answers.  He wore denims with a pale grey suit jacket over top, apparently still refusing to wear dress robes, and the first thought Remus had was that he wanted to peel it off of him.  The second was that he had given up the right six years ago.  Nowhere in there was the thought that maybe he should answer.  Or stop staring.

Thankfully he was given a moment’s reprieve by the approach of Severus Snape.

"Potter," he drawled, nodding briefly at Remus, which left Remus strangely confused.  He vaguely remembered Peter saying that they were civil now, but he didn't think that extended to him.

James nodded for Snape to continue, while Lily watched Sirius with a stern look on her face.

"It appears that son of yours, along with the younger set of Weasleys, have managed to release the Puffskeins Hagrid brought to keep them busy.  Just thought you'd like to know."

There was a bit of colorful swearing, but Remus thought he could see a flash of pride on James' face, just before he turned to leave with Snape, saying, "I suppose I should probably go help round them up and discipline my son."

Lily snorted.  "That'll be the day," she muttered, following behind.

"That's completely unnatural," Sirius groused, watching James and Snape walk side by side without a single hex flying.

"You know, I have to agree with you," Remus replied, watching them walk away so he wouldn't have to turn and face Sirius.

Peter broke the tension with a chuckle.  "I'm not nearly as subtle as those two, and I don't have a child to give me a valid excuse, so I'm just going to say it – you two need to talk, so I'm going to go spend some time chatting with the Longbottoms.  It's good to see you, Remus.  Don't let this plonker run you off again."

Before Remus had a chance to say that it had never been Sirius, Peter gave Remus a brief hug and wandered off, leaving Remus and Sirius alone in a room full of other people.

Twisting his fingers into the worn cuffs of his old, faded, ten years out of date, mahogany dress robes, Remus sighed.  "He's right, we should talk."

"Are you really sure you want to do that, Remus?  You won't even look at me."

It took three deep breaths, in and out nice and slow, before Remus could make his legs work to spin him around and meet Sirius' eyes, pinched at the corners to match his mouth.  "Yes, Sirius, I'm sure."  He had never been less sure of anything in his life.

Sirius seemed to deflate a little, shoulders rounding out, chin coming down a couple of centimeters.  He ran a hand through his hair, a gesture so very James that Remus was struck, yet again, by all the lost time that the rest of his friends had had together.  "Let me get some food and then maybe we can take a walk," he said, watching Remus like he was a wild creature about to bolt any second.  Remus wasn't sure he was wrong.

As a concession to the way he was being looked at, Remus followed Sirius over to the table laden with food from the Hogwarts kitchens.  The silence was awkward surrounded by the droning buzz of so many people catching up with each other after a decade.  Many of them seemed to have kept in touch, and others looked as lost as Remus felt.

The table was full of so many nostalgic foods; puddings and roast meats, breads and potatoes, and Remus wanted none of it.  His stomach was tied up so tightly that he was afraid that he would choke if he tried to eat.  Maybe later.  Maybe tomorrow.  Possibly sometime next week he'd be ready for food again.  Or possibly tea.  Tea sounded okay.  There was tea on the table.

Remus poured himself a small cup of tea and there was suddenly a hand in front of his face holding the sugar bowl.  When he looked up Sirius looked as startled as he felt, a rueful look in his eyes.

"I assume you still want this," he muttered, sounding both amused and wary, a combination that made Remus' heart squeeze painfully.

The jolt of desire that flashed through Remus when their fingers brushed made him catch his breath, fingers lingering longer than they should.  Sirius didn't pull away either, and if the way his eyes went wide was any indication, he felt it too.   

"Thank you," Remus whispered at the same time Sirius hissed, "Yeah, we definitely need to talk."

Food was abandoned as they slipped out of the Great Hall.  "Do you think that door behind the statue of Sullivan the Smarmy is still there?" Sirius asked, marching in the direction of said door with Remus trailing behind bemused.

"Sirius, we're adults now.  We don't actually need to sneak out.  We could just go out the main door."

"Where's the fun in that?  If this is supposed to be all nostalgic, I want the full experience."

"Of course you do," Remus muttered, but he was smiling, which he wasn't sure he remembered how to do when faced with even the thought of Sirius, who was every bit as bright as his memories implied, bounding down the hall looking for their old escape route simply for the joy of it.

Seven halls, a trick door, two wrong turns, and one moving wall that left them temporarily locked into a small room that had started out as a hallway later and Remus was a little less enamored by this method.

"Sirius, I think we're lost."

"It's around here somewhere, I know it is," Sirius insisted, tapping on a portrait of a sleeping Romanian Longhorn, which thankfully snorted a little fire in its sleep but didn't wake up.

He kept pacing back and forth muttering to himself while Remus watched, getting more frustrated, but unable to stop himself from glancing at Sirius' arse every time he turned away.  Eventually, Sirius threw his hands up nearly dropping his wand, which he had been using to prod at the stonework, and stopped, eyes narrowed in frustration.   

"Will that do?" Remus asked, trying not to laugh, as he pointed at the door that had popped up in front of them.

"Oh!" Sirius startled.  "I had forgotten about that option."

Remus pushed the door open and waited for Sirius, following him in, running all the different ways he could start this conversation through his head, but coming up with none that didn't come across either as accusatory, self-centered or petulant.  

He opened his mouth, stuttering breath, ready to try and explain, when he pulled up short, stopped by the look on Sirius' face.  Sirius, who he had never stopped loving and who was looking at him the same way he had when they were fifteen and first tumbling into bed together.   

There was very suddenly a wall against his back, and his hands were pinned over his head while Sirius pressed a thigh between his legs.  "You have no idea what you look like in those glasses, do you?" He growled, nipping at the edge of Remus' jaw, pressing his nose behind Remus' ear and nudging the arm of his glasses till they were askew and the world went fuzzy.

"Fuck, Sirius, we were supposed to talk," Remus groaned, hips canting forward without his permission.

"We will," Sirius promised, hand slipping between Remus and the wall to grip at his arse, causing Remus to let out a not so subtle gasp.  "But bloody Merlin, Remus, it's been six years and I want you naked."  He paused, took a deep breath that Remus felt against his neck on exhale.  "That is, if you want that."

The hesitancy in Sirius' voice squeezed at Remus' heart, and rather than reply he simply used every ounce of strength he had to flip them around, slamming Sirius against the wall, before dropping to his knees, fumbling with the fastening on Sirius' denims.

Sirius gasped, gripping at Remus' shoulders, but held him back, much to Remus' dismay.  Somewhere in the back of his brain he knew this was good, that they should be talking, that falling into bed together without communicating was the problem in the first place.  In the front of his brain, however, he just wanted to get his mouth on Sirius as soon as possible.

There was a keening sound that Remus realized was coming from him, and he sat back, biting it off and looking up at Sirius, frowning.

The look Sirius was directing at him was soft, warm, and it made Remus pull up short.  No one had ever looked at him like that before.

Sirius slid a hand from Remus' shoulder to trail fingers across his jaw.  "Believe me, I'm loving the sight of you down on your knees for me, Moony, but you're not twenty-two anymore.  Your knees aren't going to thank you for that."

The snort escaped before he could stop it.  "I never had the knees of a twenty-two year old, Padfoot.  My knees were seventy by the time I was seven _teen_ , I think they'll survive it."

"No need to make them worse.  We can move."

"I just want you in my mouth, Sirius.  It's been six years and that's far too long."  He took a deep breath, and pulled back, standing.  "I'm sorry, I didn't actually mean to push.  That's not right."  

Sirius shook his head, watching Remus.  "Remus, believe me, I'm not contradicting that desire.  I mean, I want you, too.  In my bed.  In my hands.  In my flat, sharing my breakfast and dinner, and in my every minute of every day.  I want you in my life, Remus.  Even if that means just as friends again.  I miss you."  He tugged at his hair, but held Remus' eyes until Remus was the one who had to look away.

"I miss you, too, Sirius," he sighed, squeezing his eyes shut briefly.  "I've spent six years telling myself I didn't, but I'm getting worse at lying to myself."

"Then why do it?"

"Because it hurts less than the truth."  Crossing his arms across his chest, hunching down a bit, Remus turned and saw that there was a squishy sofa that hadn't been there a moment before.  Or maybe it had.  He had been so focused on Sirius he never really saw the room.  Taking the time to cross the room and sink down onto the sofa, he felt the resignation settle deep into his chest.  "I loved you, Sirius.  The all-consuming kind.  But we fell into bed as a matter of convenience.  How many other poofs did you know?  My heart could only take so much."

Sirius gaped at him, mouth open slightly, eyes wide, knees letting go as he landed next to Remus with a small thud.  "Convenience?  You were never just convenience for me, Remus.  Shite, you were the one that said we just shagged.  It was never just shagging to me.  Never."

"Of course I said we were just shagging, because we were!  You never once told me you cared, not once, Sirius, and I'm not that good at Legilimency.  If you wanted me to know it was more you had to tell me that, Sirius."

"Bloody hell, I asked you to marry me!" He was nearly shouting, and Remus reached out and put a hand over Sirius' before he could think better of the move.

"Because you were trying to spite your mother, Sirius.  That doesn't inspire a lot of confidence in a relationship."   

"Is that what you thought?  Is that honestly what you thought, Remus?  That I proposed because it would stop my mother nagging me?  I had a ring!"

"You had a ring?"  Remus shook his head, trying not to imagine that.  Trying not to imagine what his life would have been if Sirius had simply proposed, with a ring, without his mother hanging over their heads.  "Never mind, I didn't know that part.  What else was I supposed to think, Sirius, when you ask because your mother wrote to know when you were going to settle down?"  Remus wanted to be angry, wanted to shout, or cry, but instead he just let the resignation overwhelm him, keep him sitting next to Sirius with all the years both lost and found stretching the space between them into interminable.

"That maybe I loved you, too?"

It was said so quietly, and Remus couldn't breathe, he was choking, suffocating on all the years, all the miscommunication, and he couldn't breathe.

"That maybe I still love you?"  Even quieter, but the words still rang in Remus' ears, accusing, lost, a tentative bridge between them.

"You don't know me anymore, Sirius."

Sirius shrugged, twining their fingers together where Remus still hadn't moved his hand away.  "I still know that you like sugar in your tea, and that you frown when you're concentrating, but also when you're trying not to laugh.  I know that you look to the left when you're thinking, and that the way you're holding my hand right now has to mean something.  The rest we can work out.  The rest I want to work out."

Their fingers were tangled together, Sirius' warm against his, and Remus let that offer settle into the air around them, breathing it in, holding onto it for a moment.  "I think I'd like that."

"Be sure," Sirius whispered, using Remus' hand to tug him closer so they were pressed side to side, the years disappearing with the space between them.  "Because I can't take having my heart broken a second time."

"I broke my own heart, too, Sirius.  I'm sure.  It's always been you."

Sirius was looking at him like he wasn't quite sure what to make of that, and Remus couldn't entirely blame him.  They may have both been terrible at communicating, but Remus was eventually the one to run away.

Letting himself reach out with his free hand, Remus gently brushed Sirius' cheek, tracing his fingers along the edge of his jaw.  "We aren't kids anymore, Sirius, we can _talk_ about these things now, instead of pretending that neither of us actually has any feelings.  I'm sure.  I still love you, too."

Eyes closed for a moment, grey blanking out, before Sirius turned his head and kissed the heel of Remus' hand.  "Okay.  Okay."  Then, much to Remus' surprise, Sirius tugged him even closer, slotting their mouths together.

Remus gasped into the kiss, giving Sirius the chance to slip his tongue inside to tangle with Remus'.  One hand found its way into Sirius' hair without his permission, but going by the way Sirius groaned at the contact Remus was glad it had.

It was a brief kiss.  Not the continuation of the heat that had gotten them here in the first place, it was soft, sweet, a precursor to the new equilibrium they had found.  When they pulled slowly apart Remus dropped his forehead to Sirius' shoulder and clung to him, gasping, hoping he wasn't about to start crying.

"Seven years."  He was proud of himself, his voice only sounded a little watery.

"What?" Sirius asked his hair, holding on just as tightly.

"Seven years we shagged, Sirius, and that's the first time you've ever kissed me."

Sirius barked out a laugh, but it didn't have any humor in it.  "Every time I got close you got the strangest look on your face and turned away.  I just assumed it was something you weren't into.  Not everyone is."

"Well, for the record, I'm very very into it.  With you."

"Good to know," Sirius growled, kissing him again.

"Talking.  We are going to do so much talking.  To think this all could have been avoided if we had just used words," Remus mumbled when they pulled apart.

"Well, to be fair, Moony, we were kids.  I'm not sure I knew what emotions were at fifteen, let alone how to talk about them.  And then it just sort of became our normal to avoid them."

"No more of that," Remus insisted, kissing Sirius again briefly, just because he could.  "We're doing this right this time."

Instead of answering, Sirius pulled back just far enough to look Remus in the eye.  "When this is over tonight, come home with me."  It wasn't a question, and Remus didn't want it to be.  He thought back to his tiny cottage with the sagging mattress and the coffee pot that spit all over him, his meager supply of clothes and empty refrigerator.  It wasn't much of a choice.  "I'll have to Apparate home for some clothes, but absolutely.  Yes.  Always."

"We could always go now," Sirius hedged, kissing along Remus' jaw as if Remus needed convincing.

"Won't they miss us downstairs?"

Sirius laughed, shaking Remus with it.  "I'm fairly sure this entire thing was an elaborate plan of James' to get us to talk again.  They won't mind."

Thinking back on Peter's letter, his insistence that they all missed Remus, his subtle check to see if Remus was dating anyone, his careful comments about Sirius, Remus had to agree.  "I think Peter was in on it," he lamented, unable to keep the grin off his face.  "Let's go."


End file.
